Disgustingly Noble
by Sue Bridehead
Summary: On their last night before going to an exclusive Quidditch training camp for six weeks, Ron and Harry take Hermione and Ginny out for a special dinner. One shot.


Author's Notes: This was written as a challenge fic for the hpgwficafest community at Livejournal. The lines I chose to incorporate were:

"_Mum and Dad just sent Hedwig back." The owl fluttered obligingly over and perched on top of her cage. "Are you ready yet?"_

_"Nearly. Is Ginny all right?" Harry asked, shoving on his glasses._

Feedback is appreciated. Thank you, PhoenixRae and Catalina Royce, for beta-reading it!

**DISGUSTINGLY NOBLE **

"Thank you, Tom, the prime rib was delicious. Didn't you think so, dear?" Harry asked Ginny, his girlfriend for the past two and a half months. She nodded brightly as she dabbed at her lips with the silky, crimson napkin. Her brother Ron spoke his compliments nonverbally by rubbing his overfull tummy and belching loudly, much to the chagrin of Hermione, his fiancée, who gasped as if she were highly offended. His face coloring slightly, he looked up at her sheepishly.

Hermione snipped, "Honestly, Ron! It's no wonder you're stuffed. You haven't eaten this much since our final Leaving Feast. I'll be surprised if you'll be able to drag yourself up those stairs and to your room." Tom, the proprietor of The Leaky Cauldron and their host for the evening, laughed congenially as he removed the remainders of their dinner from the elegantly-decorated table.

Tonight's dinner marked a special occasion for the two couples. As such, they dined in one of the inn's private parlor rooms, mostly used by the rich, famous, and celebrated. And 17-year-old Harry Potter could definitely be counted among that group.

He had recently defeated Lord Voldemort, bringing an end to a long, devastating war that had ravaged their country and destroyed countless lives, both muggle and wizard. Harry and several of the students he had helped train to fight were partly responsible for the fact that Hogwarts still stood and that many of its professors and students were alive today. Several Death Eaters were killed, while many more were brought to justice or awaiting their day in court.

But those weren't the reasons for this special evening.

Harry and Ron, best of friends since first meeting on the Hogwarts Express almost eight years ago, were on their way to an exclusive Quidditch Training Camp at an undisclosed location near the northern coast. The training they would receive there was second to none, according to Oliver Wood. He said that anyone who completed the grueling six-week course was almost assured a spot somewhere in the national league. Simply being accepted was an honor.

As this was their last night of 'freedom' before traveling there the next day, it gave them a perfect excuse to take their two favorite girls out for a nice dinner. Ginny and Hermione had been with them from the beginning; they had stood by them, through thick and thin, defending them, always at their side.

Ron and Harry's train was scheduled to depart at 9 a.m. the following morning. Since the departure was so early, the four of them had decided to spend the night in the rooms Tom offered on the upper floors of the establishment. The boys had a two-bedroom suite, and the girls had the same next door. Although going upstairs to get a good night's rest was inevitable, the evening had been so pleasant that none of them really wanted it to end.

Tom returned once more, this time with a cartful of mouth-watering desserts of all sorts. When he said it was complementary, none of them could refuse taking at least one. When Harry started to inquire how much the tab was, the man said graciously, "It's on the house, Mr. Potter."

"Yes, the desserts, I know. And thank you. But how much do I owe for the prime rib, the butterbeer, the—"

"Oh, no. That's what I meant, Mr. Potter. Everything's on the house, including your two rooms."

"But," the reluctant hero began, "you said they're your two finest."

"Yes, Mr. Potter. And believe me, you're worth it. Thank you, and enjoy the rest of your stay. And if I don't see you in the morning, I'm sure you and Mr. Weasley will do very well at your training camp." He gave them a smile that exposed his toothless grin, then he bowed and turned to go, leaving the two flabbergasted couples to nibble on their scrumptious desserts.

A few minutes later, the girls went to the loo together. Ron took this opportunity to get Harry's opinion on something he'd been pondering. He jabbed him with his elbow, and even though no one else was in the room, he whispered, "Pssst, Harry. I wanted to see what – what you'd say to, uh – you know – er . . ."

He cleared his throat nervously, his face turning a lovely shade of crimson. Going on from where he'd stopped, he said, "Trading rooms with Hermione. You know, have her come stay in . . yours and _my_ room, a-and you could stay in _hers_ instead . . Would you, uh, be okay with that?"

Trying to wrap his brain around what his friend had just said, he squeezed his eyes shut and removed his glasses. "Ron, are you suggesting—" He hesitated, as he tried to put this as delicately as he could. "Are you asking me – rather, _encouraging_ me – to sleep in the same hotel room as your 16-year-old sister?"

Ron fidgeted in his seat and furrowed his light auburn brow. His face turned scarlet. "Well – now that you put it _that_ way, I – I guess it wouldn't be such a good idea after all," he said, mumbling the last few words. "I'd just . . hoped to spend a little more time with my fiancée, that's all."

"Well, Ron, _I_ wouldn't mind so much . . " he began awkwardly. "But I want to be sure that Ginny doesn't get the wrong idea about my intentions. I don't want her to think that I'm so anxious to sleep with her that—"

He paused. This was _not_ going well.

"I want her to know that I'm willing to wait till she's ready, not just when the opportunity presents itself." As an afterthought, he muttered, "And frankly, I've always been a bit scared of your mum."

Trying to change the subject, Harry asked, "Speaking of your mum, have your parents returned Hedwig yet?"

"Dunno," Ron answered dully. Feeling embarrassed, he didn't say anything more. He just stared at the half-eaten dessert in front of him as he picked at it listlessly with his fork.

Suddenly, he blurted out, "Harry Potter, you're disgustingly noble, you know that?" He threw his napkin down at the table in frustration then gave him a smirk, the meaning of which Harry couldn't readily identify.

"How can someone be 'disgustingly noble', Ron?" Ginny asked with a frown, as she and Hermione returned to the dining room and closed the door softly. Behaving like perfect gentlemen, Harry and Ron both stood up as the ladies took their seats.

"W-well," Ron stammered, "we were just discussing whether when you're playing Quidditch, and there are women on the other team, should you pull a feint and try to knock them off their broomsticks? Harry thinks that's not right. But I say it depends on how far behind your team is," he lied, pleading with his eyes that Harry not tell his sister what they had _really_ been talking about. He knew she would absolutely throttle him for even suggesting that she share a room with his friend, just so _he_ could get a little action.

Hermione scoffed, "Quidditch, Quidditch, Quidditch – is that all you ever think about, Ronald Bilius Weasley?"

"As a matter of fact, Ron speaks on a wide variety of topics," Harry corrected her. The slender redhead kicked him under the table, making him wince and emit an involuntary grunt. "Most of it's _boring,_ that's all," he added as he glared at Ron. Their girlfriends decided to let the matter drop.

Completely sated, both couples soon left The Leaky Cauldron. It was fairly early and some of the merchants were still open, so they decided to walk around Diagon Alley for a bit of shopping. Hermione needed a new book for her continuing education in Charms, so she and Ron headed for Flourish and Blotts. Not wanting to think about books at all, Harry and Ginny went the other way. They preferred to window shop, which basically meant they just wanted to be by themselves for a while.

The weather that night was lovely for late June; not too hot, and a gentle breeze was blowing. The tiny light fairies that Madam Malkin had arranged to accent her storefront sign were getting tired and tucking in for the night. Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor was serving what would likely be their last customers for the day, a large family with 14 children. Harry chuckled to himself; he thought Mr. Fortescue looked completely knackered.

"Poor man," Ginny remarked offhandedly.

"Nonsense, Mr. Fortescue loves it. Look at all that money he's going to be collecting."

"Not, him," she corrected. "The children's father. He and his wife must be mental."

"Well," Harry said gingerly, "perhaps that _is_ a few too many." He took her hand and squeezed it. They smiled and giggled at each other, feeling the warm euphoria of new love.

After ambling their way through the narrow market place, the couple ended up near an exquisite new fountain not far from Gringott's front steps. It was sculpted of white marble and charmed to light up at dusk. At its centerpiece was a mermaid. Her pitcher continuously poured water; as it reached the pool below, it changed colors. Ginny gazed at the fountain. It was breathtaking.

"I – I'll miss you," she blurted out.

"That's not fair," Harry sighed.

"Why? What do you mean?"

"I miss you already." He mentally kicked himself for sounding so . . so bloody _stupid,_ so much like he was trying desperately to get in her knickers. She seemed not to notice his reddening cheeks.

"You _will_ write to me, won't you?" she asked.

His blush fading, Harry laughed softly. "Of course, I will. All the time." He touched her hair then gently caressed her cheek. Shuddering, she stepped closer, her lips inches from his; his face got very hot. He placed his hands gently on each of her pale, beautifully-freckled cheeks. Pulling her in, he kissed her, lightly at first but then more insistently, with more urgency than ever before. For a moment, he worried she might slap him or push him away.

She didn't.

Quite unexpectedly, yet not altogether unpleasantly, Ginny's own passion flared. She threw her arms around him and pulled him toward her. He could feel her curves as she pressed up against him. He inched himself back a bit to avoid her feeling what her actions were doing to him; if he didn't, she'd slap him for sure. However, she pressed herself even closer.

Suddenly, Ron's suggestion wasn't sounding all that bad. After all, he and Ginny wouldn't see each other for _weeks_ . . How would they ever last without one another's touch?

As quickly as the fiery kisses had begun, his girlfriend came to her senses and stepped back from him. Her breathing was a bit ragged, just like his own. She glanced away then fixed her eyes on the fountain splashing behind him.

Harry apologized, "I'm sorry, Ginny. I don't know what came over me."

Shrugging her shoulders, she laughed, "That's all right. It was my fault, too." She looked around a bit. Noticing there were very few shoppers who had not gone home yet, she commented, "It must be getting late; we'd better head back. Besides, we may need to rescue Ron from that book store."

But when they walked by Flourish and Blotts, the place was dark and utterly deserted. Deciding Hermione must have nagged Ron into going back to the hotel so he could get some sleep, they went back to The Leaky Cauldron and ascended the steps to the girls' room to say good night. But there was no sign of life there, either. "Where could they _be?"_ Harry mused with a frown.

Just then, he heard a loud groan from the room next door. _"Ron," _he growled slowly to himself. Ginny's eyes drew wide, hoping she didn't hear what she thought she just heard. But when Hermione's unmistakable voice started making incoherent moans, they both knew they could be in for a long – not to mention, uncomfortable – wait.

Ginny plopped down in the love seat and sighed. She rolled her eyes. "Merlin, you'd think between the two of them, someone would have remembered to cast a bloody silencing charm!"

Harry laughed nervously as he sat down in the chair across from her. "Too bad one of _us_ can't do it – but they don't go through walls, you know." He momentarily closed his eyes, as if that could help him shut out the unwelcome noises from the next room.

If only it could.

When they heard the faint creaking of aging bedsprings and an insistent, repeated thumping against the wall, Ginny decided she'd heard more than enough. Her face a deep red, she jumped up so quickly that he did as well.

"Are you all right?" he asked concernedly.

She crossed her arms and said shakily, "I'm sorry, Harry – I'm going to go to bed. To sleep, I mean. You can wait here, if you like. I'll see you in the morning." And avoiding eye contact with him, she shuffled off to her private bedroom.

"Good night," he mumbled after her retreating form.

Harry exhaled loudly then sprawled out in the spot Ginny had just vacated. He dimmed the lights and closed his eyes in a feeble attempt to get some rest, trying to ignore the escalating, relentless sounds from the next suite over. Finally, after a few more groans and gasps, it ceased. The room was quiet once more.

"_Thank God,"_ Harry murmured to himself as he started to stand up. He walked to the basin that was near the front door, thinking that he would give Hermione at least a few minutes to get dressed. Yet while he was splashing his face with cold water and attempting to get his unruly hair under control . . they started up again.

_Dammit, Ron – I need to get some sleep!_ he thought angrily to himself. He walked back to the loveseat and dropped himself onto it once more. He considered resting there, but it was about six inches too short for him. He sat up and sighed irritably. The darkened room was making him feel very sleepy.

"S'pose this could go on all night," he said to the empty room. He stood up, yawned, and stretched his arms overhead. "I don't have a choice," he muttered as he strode to Hermione's empty bedroom to settle in for the night. "If she comes back tonight, I'll just . . " Another yawn escaped then he collapsed onto the bed, falling asleep almost immediately.

When day broke, Harry was awakened by a sliver of sunlight that crept into the unfamiliar room and a shrill noise that he assumed was a nearby train. Slightly disoriented, he wondered vaguely where all those books had come from. He didn't need all those books for Quidditch camp. And that trunk – it was somewhat familiar, but it wasn't his. When Crookshanks walked across his stomach, last night all came back to him.

He checked the time. "8:05!" he gasped as he flew out of the strange bed. "Our train is in less than an hour – and me without a time turner!" Making sure his hair wasn't _too_ awfully wild, and that he looked somewhat presentable, he stepped out of the room and rapped on Ginny's door.

"Ginny!" he yelled through the shut door. "We overslept, Ginny. Get up, get ready – the train leaves in less than hour!"

"Aww, hell," she groaned in reply, "I was counting on Hermione to get me up at seven. I-I'll hurry in the shower; or do you want to go next door to get ready!"

Harry looked around nervously for a half-second. "Yeah, I probably should – seeing as all my stuff is over there. See you soon," he added as he bolted out of the room.

Thankfully, neither of his friends was present at the moment. "They must have gone downstairs to eat," he decided, "or something." He took the quickest shower of his life, other than after the first time he played Quidditch. Even though he had won the game that day, he was incredibly nervous. He was the smallest boy in the Gryffindor changing rooms, in more ways than one – and seeing Oliver Wood in all his glory hadn't done much for his confidence.

He emerged from the tiny hotel bathroom, shaved, dressed, and almost ready to go. All he needed to do was pack a few things and then—

"Ron!" he said in surprise. His lanky, red-haired friend stood before him with a guilty grin on his face, his fingers stroking the feathers of Harry's beautiful, snowy white owl.

"Mum and Dad just sent Hedwig back." The owl fluttered obligingly over and perched on top of her cage. "Are you ready yet?"

"Nearly. Is Ginny all right?" Harry asked, shoving on his glasses.

His friend shrugged. "I guess so," he surmised. "She told me you . . slept in Hermione's room last night, and she in hers. And nothing happened – right?" Harry glared at him incredulously. "Right. I'll take that as a 'no'."

Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, Ron added, "Sorry about last night, mate. But I've, uh, unmade your bed and mussed it up a bit, just in case one of the maids should get . . the wrong idea about us. You and me, I mean." Harry gaped at him once more. "People _do_ talk, you know."

"Thank you, Ron," he replied curtly. "That was very _thoughtful_ of you."

For a moment, neither one said another word. Then Harry laid into him like stench on dragon dung.

"Ron Weasley, if you ever, _EVER,_ put me in a situation like that again, I will hex you into next year! I was never more uncomfortable in my life – and thank God your mother didn't find out!"

"Actually," he hedged, "she did. I don't know how she knew; maybe that clock is better than I thought it was. But I . . I got a Howler from her this morning. Surprised it didn't wake you up."

Feeling vindicated, not to mention extremely relieved, Harry asked him flatly, "What did she say in it?"

"She said I . . . I thoroughly disgust her, I disappointed her – and I need to keep my hands, and the rest of me, to myself. And I should behave more like my friend, Harry."

Harry sighed. "Come on, mate. We've got a train to catch."

The End

Notes: Thanks for reading; let me know what you thought of it!


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